


bird in the hand

by woofgender



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: A Plethora of Bird Trivia, Birds, Established Relationship, Extensive Bird Facts, Flirting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 13:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16096262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woofgender/pseuds/woofgender
Summary: "'I still think that duck is gonna bite me,' Bucky muttered, frowning."____________________Sam and Bucky go on a date at the zoo.





	bird in the hand

Bucky stared at the bird. The bird perched on the railing stared back, unblinking, an expression in its eyes that he could only read as hostile.

 

Not breaking eye contact, he leaned a little closer to Sam. “Sam,” he hissed. The bird ruffled its improbably pink feathers and, if possible, looked angrier.

 

“Sam,” Bucky said again, a little more urgently. “I think that duck wants to bite me.”

 

“It’s not a duck,” Sam said wearily. “We’re in a zoo, not a city park. It’s a roseate spoonbill, like it says on the sign right there.”

 

“But Russia—”

 

“—and don’t pull the whole ‘Russia made me forget how to read’ thing again, man, you _know_ that only works on Steve.”

 

“I still think that duck is gonna bite me,” Bucky muttered, frowning. Sam had told him earlier that day that zoos in the future sometimes had exhibits where select, safe animals could wander without any barriers between them and the visitors (though, as he’d immediately clarified, visitors shouldn’t touch the animals). Bucky wasn’t buying it. It was bird anarchy, was what it was.

 

A small child, one of the apparent infinite supply of small children shrieking their way around the zoo and all over Bucky’s nerves, stopped abruptly next to where Sam and Bucky were standing, looking wide-eyed at the bird. “Wow,” she said softly.

 

The bird opened its long bill—and Bucky had to admit that Sam had a point, its bill did look a lot like a spoon—and made a sound like a duck giggling.

 

“See!” Bucky exclaimed, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t holding Sam’s. “It’s a duck!” The little girl who’d stopped to watch the bird laughed. Sam did not. Bucky huffed, annoyed.

 

“Did you know they don’t get that pink color on their own?” Sam said.

 

“Sam,” Bucky said, “are you telling me that this bird dyes its feathers?”

 

“What? No,” Sam replied. “They’re like flamingos. They get that color from something they eat.”

 

“So if I fed Steve—”

 

“ _No_.”

 

The bird finally broke its stare and turned away, flapping down away from the walkway and landing in a tub of water below. The girl who’d been watching made a disappointed noise and turned away, but Sam moved forward to lean over the railing, watching the bird splash around in the water, and Bucky followed suit.

 

“See, it likes water, like a—”

 

“If you say ‘duck,’ Barnes, I swear to god, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

 

“I wasn’t gonna say ‘duck!’”

 

“Uh huh. Sure.”

 

“…I was gonna say ‘goose.’”

 

Sam turned and looked at Bucky for a long minute, then shook his head. “It’s not a goose—”

 

Behind Sam, the spoonbill launched itself out of the tub, flying back up toward the railing. Bucky tugged Sam back just in time, as the bird settled on the railing where they’d just been leaning. It stared at Bucky for another moment, and then lifted its wings and shook them. Acting on instinct, Bucky pushed Sam behind him, blocking Sam from the spray—and catching what felt like a gallon of bird water with his face.

 

Bucky spluttered, wiping at his face, as the bird made that weird quacking giggle sound again. Sam was laughing and laughing, clutching Bucky’s arm for balance. “Oh my god,” he gasped, “what the hell, Barnes, did you just take the bullet for me? Are you the Secret Service of birds now?”

 

Bucky pouted. “See if I protect you next time,” he muttered, knowing full well that he’d protect Sam from anything, a thousand times over. Even if it was from a weird pink duck.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Bucky had meant to keep up his grumpy act for longer after the bird soaked him, but he had to admit he was impressed by the Rüppell’s griffon vultures. He’d never thought of vultures as particularly pretty birds, but these were oddly elegant. Their long, nearly bald necks and heads with a fine coating of white feathers made them look distinguished.

 

“They look like fancy old ladies at the opera,” he said.

 

Sam gave him a skeptical look. He was pretty sure that one of the gazelles sharing the enclosure with the vultures did, too.

 

“It was a compliment,” Bucky said defensively.

 

“Sure,” Sam said, turning back to look at the birds. Bucky followed him as he approached the fence, and they leaned against it together, their joined hands resting on the top railing.

 

“Did you know they can fly higher than any other bird in the world?” Sam asked. He grinned as he watched one of the vultures sidle around a cardboard box on the ground, extending its long neck to peck at it. “They’re amazing.”

 

“Yeah?” Bucky said, leaning in a little closer.

 

“They’ve got this special protein, a different kind of hemoglobin in their blood that lets them absorb more oxygen at high altitudes,” Sam said, his voice taking on a tone of wonder. “They can fly as high as commercial jets. 36, 37,000 feet up.”

 

“What,” Bucky said. “What?”

 

“They hunt for carrion by vision, not by smell, unlike vultures in the Americas—”

 

“No, wait, back up. 37,000 fucking feet? Are these fucking—space birds?”

 

Sam laughed, shushing Bucky’s indignant exclamations about the birds when a bunch of preschoolers passed by. “Nah, they’re just adapted to fly that high,” he said, still smiling.

 

“Space birds,” Bucky muttered, watching as the curious vulture who’d been investigating the box hopped on top of it, then flapped inelegantly back down when the box tipped over.

 

“Their names are Tuck and Natalie,” Sam said, in the tone of voice one would use when introducing a human friend to other, equally human friends, which caused a funny squeezing feeling in Bucky’s chest. He leaned up against Sam and watched him watch the vultures hop around the box.

 

Wait. “Why do they have a box?”

 

“Enrichment,” Sam said. “It’s a range of things the zookeepers do so the animals aren’t bored or stressed. They give them new things to think about, to do, touch, smell, that kind of thing.”

 

“So…the box? Is cardboard important for birds? Is there food inside?

 

“It’s probably just fun for them,” Sam said. “They wouldn’t be this shy if there was food inside it.”

 

One of the vultures hopped over to a sunny spot and stretched its wings out. Bucky whistled low. “That is a big goddamn bird,” he said, thoroughly impressed despite himself.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Sam expressed some regret that the cassowary—“her Majesty,” he called her, apparently unironically—had been transferred to another zoo. “It was like getting to see a real velociraptor,” he said, “except bigger, obviously.”

 

“Velociraptor?”

 

“Shit, that’s right. I don’t even know if they’d discovered velociraptors in your day. They were a kind of dinosaur that became really popular from a series of movies. They’re one of the prototypical, you know, scary dinosaurs now, even though the movie version wasn’t really accurate. They were probably good hunters, yeah, but they were also maybe knee-high and had feathers.”

“So you’re telling me that people are scared of—what, bitey chickens?”

 

Sam laughed, a big, explosive _hah!_ Bucky grinned, proud of himself. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” Sam said, still chuckling as he led them to a stop in front of an exhibit enclosed with wire fencing.

 

Bucky squinted into the dim, shady enclosure. There was a pair of black birds inside, perched on a tree branch. He noted the sign next to the exhibit, which identified them as common ravens.

 

“So, crows?” he asked.

 

Sam sighed deeply. “I can’t take you anywhere, can I,” he said.

 

“Hey, I just figured this relationship only needed one huge nerd,” Bucky said.

 

“James Barnes. You tried to tell me about how supernovas work last week.”

 

“Uh, yeah?”

 

“ _While I was blowing you_ ,” Sam hissed, leaning in so nearby children wouldn’t overhear. “I don’t think I’m the only nerd in this relationship.”

 

“I was just tryin’ to set the mood!”

 

“ _What possible mood_ —no! Absolutely not,” Sam exclaimed when Bucky started to grin, covering Bucky’s mouth with his free hand. “Don’t you dare say whatever gross astronomy pun you’re thinking of, Barnes, we are in _public—_ “

 

Bucky licked his hand. Sam yanked his hand away, glaring, but Bucky wasn’t fooled. Sam’s pupils had dilated. Bucky gave him an outrageous wink. “So tell me all about the crows, darling,” he cajoled, fluttering his eyelashes for good measure.

 

“Ugh,” Sam said. “They’re _ravens_.” He wiped his hand on the sleeve of Bucky’s shirt, visibly struggling to hide a grin.

 

“Please?” Bucky wheedled. “Tell me about the ravens, Sammy.” He dropped his chin so he could look up at Sam through his lashes.

 

“…fine,” Sam grumbled, mouth twitching like he wanted to smile. “They’re really intelligent birds. You know they can imitate talking, like parrots?”

 

“What kinda expert connoisseur of animal blogs do you take me for? Of _course_ I know they can talk.”

 

“That’s not the best part, though. They can _use tools_.” Sam raised his eyebrows and gave Bucky a significant look.

 

“…what, like hammers or something?” Bucky replied after a moment, at a bit of a loss.

 

“Not that kind of tools. It means more that they use objects, not just their beaks and claws and so forth, to help them…you know, get extra food or whatever.”

 

“…okay,” Bucky said, still feeling like he was missing the point.

 

“Not a lot of animals can do that,” Sam clarified. “I guess this is another thing like the velociraptors. There’s been a lot of research on animal intelligence in the last couple of decades. We used to think it was just humans that used and made tools, but we keep finding more and more animals that do it, too. Ravens like to play, so they use a lot of objects as toys.”

 

“Damn,” Bucky said quietly, caught between watching the birds—who were shifting around restlessly and occasionally cawing in their odd, croaking voices—and watching the soft expression on Sam’s face. “Are they worried about something?” he asked, nodding toward where the birds were getting more and more vocal.

 

“Nah, I think they’re excited—they know they’re about to get food,” Sam replied, pointing to the back of the exhibit. A zookeeper—a slim young woman in the sturdy earth-toned uniform of park employees—had entered the enclosure, carrying a plastic box. The ravens chattered and squawked excitedly, hopping from branch to branch toward the zookeeper, who smiled, greeting them.

 

“Do they have names, too? Like the vultures?” Bucky asked.

 

“Chogan and Iris,” Sam said, and then, “You’re gonna want to watch this part.”

 

Bucky turned back and watched as the zookeeper set up a small easel on a platform inside the enclosure. One of the ravens—“That’s Iris,” Sam murmured—flapped up to the platform, hopping eagerly and fluttering her wings. The keeper handed something to her—something like a pencil or pen, with a crosspiece at the top and a bright spot of green on the other end. Iris gripped the crosspiece in her beak, and then the keeper pointed to the easel. Iris hopped over to the easel, and—

 

“Oh my god,” Bucky murmured, awestruck, watching Iris give the paintbrush back to the keeper in exchange for a bit of meat. “Is she painting?”

 

Sam laughed delightedly. “I told you,” he said, watching Iris take the paintbrush again and follow the keeper’s cue to paint. “They’re so damn cool.”

 

A few minutes later, when Iris was taking a break and Chogan was retrieving a very, very small frisbee in his beak in exchange for strips of meat, Sam cleared his throat. “They, uh. The ravens. They mate for life,” he said, in an uncharacteristically uncertain tone that made Bucky frown in concern, but then Sam pushed on. “Like a lot of birds, they attract mates by showing off.”

 

Sam fell silent. Bucky nudged him gently. “Showing off?”

 

“Yeah. They gotta prove that they’ll be a good mate, so they show the other bird that they can provide food, they demonstrate their intelligence, and, uh. Well, they’re real playful, and they tend to use all kinds of aerial acrobatics.”

 

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Aerial…acrobatics?”

 

“What.”

 

“You’re telling me these birds do tricks in the air.”

 

“…yes.”

 

“To impress a—“

 

“—Barnes—“

 

“So does that mean—“

 

“—Barnes, _no_ —“

 

“—you’ve been flirting with me?”

 

Sam covered his eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding Bucky’s. “Barnes.”

 

Bucky bit his lip, suppressing a grin. “Well, you definitely feed me,” he said. “I make food for you too, but I guess that one’s mutual. And you’ve just been telling me all this stuff you know about birds, so that’s intelligence. And”—he dodged Sam’s attempt to cover his mouth with a hand—“and you definitely do all kinds of fancy flying sh—stuff,” he corrected, belatedly remembering that he was at a zoo and surrounded by children. “You been flirtin’ with me, Sam Wilson?”

 

“We are literally _on a date right now_ , you _asshole_ ,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “And I’m pretty sure you were there for what happened last night, and the night before, and the night before that—”

 

“Okay, okay! S’just—” Bucky could feel himself blushing, and looked down at his feet, hoping his hair would help disguise it. “It’s nice to have the confirmation sometimes, is all.”

 

Sam leaned in, bumping Bucky’s shoulder with his. “You’re such a nerd,” he said affectionately.

 

“Yeah, but you’re the one on a date with me,” Bucky replied, gently squeezing Sam’s hand.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> All the birds portrayed in this story really do live at the National Zoo in DC. You can find more information and photos of the birds at these links:  
> Roseate Spoonbill: https://nationalzoo.si.edu/animals/roseate-spoonbill   
> Rüppell’s Griffon Vulture: https://nationalzoo.si.edu/animals/ruppells-griffon-vulture  
> Common Raven: https://nationalzoo.si.edu/animals/common-raven 
> 
>  
> 
> I used the zoo’s website, press reports, YouTube videos, and my own experiences at the National Zoo to describe the birds’ enclosures and the forms of enrichment provided for them. Iris the raven really does paint: https://youtu.be/rHtC-VOcICg. 
> 
>  
> 
> Until recently, the National Zoo did have a cassowary, nicknamed “Earlina.” I met her through a fence once. It really was like making eye contact with a dinosaur. You can read more about her here: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/behind-scenes-national-zoo-worlds-most-dangerous-bird-180960704/
> 
>  
> 
> The first velociraptor fossil to be identified as such consisted of a skull and claws, which were discovered in 1923 in Mongolia by an expedition from the American Museum of Natural History. You can even read a scientific article about the discovery, published in American Museum Novitates in 1924, at this link: http://hdl.handle.net/2246/3223. I was unable to figure out when a velociraptor fossil was first put on display, but it’s certainly possible that Bucky saw the skull on display at the AMNH in New York. However, as best I could tell, velociraptors didn’t really enter the public consciousness as a particularly notable dinosaur until the first Jurassic Park film, so it’s quite likely that he wouldn’t be familiar with them. Also: they had feathers. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm on tumblr as woofgender!


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